Mud Season
by Stratocruiser
Summary: I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me.


_**I once had a girl**_

_**Or should I say**_

_**She once had me…**_

**2005.**

It was a long winter in Maine. Now it was mud season, when brown boot tracks signaled the coming spring.

Hawkeye Pierce wanted nothing more than to bloom like the flowers. His bones were old and winter was not a kind season to the elderly. His grandson was staying in the house, waiting for the next phase of his life to being. Chuck Pierce had a sports car and played loud music at all hours, but to Hawkeye it was the sound of youth, missing from his life for so long.

Chuck straggled down from bed at about ten. Hawkeye had NPR on full blast and was carefully putting daffodil bulbs into an old strawberry container.

"Grandpa, you want me to drive you over?" asked Chuck, sitting down with the paper.

"And ride in that car of yours? No thanks, I'm old, not dead."

"Suit yourself," Chuck shrugged.

The screen door slammed and Hawkeye was already halfway down the walk, plastic grocery bag in hand. Chuck watched him shuffle out to the street and thought of all the stories that surrounded the man. Hawkeye would take a lot of them to his grave.

The old doctor made his way slowly down Main Street. Cars honked, he waved. The full bag crackled pleasantly. A tremendous SUV pulled up and inside he could recognize the son of a patient, now a respected antiques dealer. "Doc Pierce? Where are you going?"

"Just up the street."

'Hey, wanna ride?"

"Nope, weather's fine."

The occupants of the truck heartily agreed and accelerated down the tree-lined street. An old friend of his son's pedaled by, waving furiously. The man's hair was gray under the helmet and Hawkeye remembered taking him fishing long ago.

Two blocks up, he stopped and unlatched a gate. Stones stood up like crooked teeth in the craggy soil. Many toppled during the winter. Hawkeye picked his way past his parent's gravestone, patting it with his hand. One over, two over and the tightly packed ground gave way to a looser patch of sod.

Hawkeye sat the bag down slowly. This was still a hard sight to take in. He swept his hand across the lettering and lowered his eyes.

_Come on old man, you've got work to do._

He could still smell her perfume in the closet. Her side of the bed still had an indentation. At night he could swear she was there, but when he'd reach over the image would burst like a bubble and he was alone. Sometimes he would wake up in a sweat, her voice calling his name.

Hawkeye frowned and surveyed the dirt. Her funeral was a small but heartfelt affair and one of the rare times he'd ever seen both of his children cry at the same time. His daughter-in-law played "Bridge Over Troubled Water" on the piano while mourners came to embrace him. Hawkeye held his children's hands, remembering when they would all pile together to watch Saturday cartoons or Carol Burnett.

Charles Winchester was there, grand in his old age, crying along with everyone else. He was family now. His only son married Hawkeye's only daughter. Charles was a member of the family, for better or for worse. He kept a hand on Hawkeye's back through the memorial service.

The wind blew, rattling the trees. Hawkeye looked up from his thoughts. Some days were harder than others. Today he cried because of the damn linen closet. He decided to change the sheets in the guest bedroom and was just unfolding the top sheet when he realized Margaret was the last person to tough it. Hawkeye made his way downstairs and hauled out their old record collection. There was a song he needed to hear, just to remember. When the first notes of "El Condor Pasa" crackled from the old turntable, he closed his eyes and remembered her arms around him and how he'd dance with her in that very same parlor to that very same song. Hawkeye trembled all over.

It was just too much. A grocery list in the coffee table. A five dollar bill in a coat pocket. In her car, while cleaning it out, he found a mysterious pair of old Army clusters, burnished to a dull brown.

Hawkeye sighed. Too many ghosts.

He pulled a small garden spade out of his bag and began to dig small holes around the stone. One by one, he dropped the blubs in, covering them carefully. When that was over he perched on his second cousin's tombstone, figuring Larry wouldn't mind. The wind died down.

"Hey Margaret, it's me. I planted some flowers. Well, I guess you can figure that out but I thought they'd liven up the place. Cemeteries are so depressing."

He frowned. That was stupid, but Margaret would have just rolled her eyes.

"Spring's almost here but I guess you know that too. You always loved it."

"Chuck's still here, waiting on his orders. You should see the car that little bastard bought. It handles like that old Nash you bought after the war."

"Peg called me last night to check in. BJ doesn't recognize anyone anymore. She's staying at Erin's until a condo opens up. She says BJ's in a nice place but sometimes he thinks he's in Korea and tries to start food fights."

"Radar's okay. He really likes Florida. I got an invite so I'm thinking about going to visit."

"Charles sends his love. He's doing okay, puttering around Boston and guest lecturing. Chuck says Charles might sell his townhouse and go to a high rise."

"You know babe, I still don't know what I'll do without you."

He paused, catching his breath. "I never thought I'd be alone again. I hear you all the time but don't know what you're saying and I want to reach out to you but I can't.

"I should have seen it coming."

_That night she said she had a headache and woke up at midnight saying she felt funny and wanted a cup of tea. She kissed your face and you listen to her walk down the steps, heard the microwave beep in the kitchen. Then you fell asleep. And you woke up and she wasn't there and the cat was staring at you._

"Ben called and said he was going to move up so I'll give them the house like we talked about. Now that Samantha's done with high school he's ready for a private practice. I figure I'll buy one of those little new houses down the street."

"Ellie's going to be up soon with Tex too. She's got some big thing near Boston and they'll drive up the coast. You should see the ugly couch she bought for the living room. Said she couldn't stand to see the other one. We found your crucifix and one of Ben's old crayons in the cushions."

_You wondered why the house was so quiet. Everything was still as you came down the steps, no TV, no radio. Just the clock's tick and whir on the quarter hour._

"Oh, BJ's a great-grandpa now. Pierce had a baby boy."

_You thought she was asleep on the couch. The teacup was full. You picked it up and kissed her forehead and it was cold. You backed away, hand over your mouth and the cup smashed to floor._

Hawkeye was crying again now.

"I know I put you through hell sometimes. With your parents, I know you had to make a choice about us. And I hope I made it clear how grateful I was for the time we spent together."

He passed a hand over his eyes, remembering their first night as a married couple. It was a lot to soak in. They both sat on the side of the bed for a while, leaning on each other, laughing and crying. Hawkeye embraced her, noticing big tears in his her green eyes. "I was just thinking," she said with a sad smile. "I don't have to be alone anymore."

_That was your promise to her and you kept it. Isn't that the most important part?_

Hawkeye's thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.

"Grandpa," said Chuck, looming over Hawkeye's seated figure. "Are you okay? I miss her too, you know."

He just nodded and wiped his face. Out of all the grandkids – and nearly everyone in the family, Chuck resembled Margaret the most, right down to his green eyes. 

"OK buddy. I do miss her. She was everything to me. I hope you get lucky and find a girl like your grandma Maggie."

Chuck smiled and helped Hawkeye up. Chuck grabbed the bag and they walked slowly out to the street.

"Grandpa, buy ya a coffee?"

"Sure son. Buy me pancakes and I'll tell you about your grandpa Charles's French horn."

"Deal."

The two men walked slowly up the street and into the healing sunshine, tracking last season's mud behind them.


End file.
